Heaven and the Horror Movie
by deadgirlWriting
Summary: After breaking from the Cullen clan, bloodthirsty Jasper Hale takes a position as head of security for B-rated horror movie mogul, Angus White and his mysterious daughter, Lilly. He is soon inducted into a dark world where fantasy meets reality and nothing is as real as it seems. Featuring Jasper and O/C. Rated MA for sex and violence. Disclaimer: I don't own any Twilight character


8

_**Heaven and the Horror Movie**_

_**Chapter One-NObodies**_

"_**Today I am dirty. I want to be pretty. Tomorrow, I know I'm just dirt. We are the nobodies. Wanna be somebodies. We're dead. We just know who we are…" The Nobodies by Marilyn Manson**_

The throbbing bass pounded the car like a pleasant headache. Then, the sinister sneering fiddle joined in. Jasper plucked right along with it, his steady hand never leaving the top of the steering wheel. He liked this particular part of the song best. The demon band grooving, revving up for the Devil's nefarious solo.

"_Fire on the mountain, run, boys run. The Devil's in the house of the risin' sun_…"when the singing took back up, he mouthed the words to the song because he hadn't inherited his momma's angelic voice.

_Momma._ A word that tasted like sprinkled Christmas cookies on a Sunday. Sickly sweet. Stomach churning. He could barely remember his mother except for her singing. The human memories were more like turned pages in a book; a five second flash and then nothing.

_Nothing left._ Any nostalgia he had drained away like the blood of his last kill. _Nothing left for the well_-_intentioned vampires that form families and go vegetarian_. He chuckled to himself, thinking of the Cullen brood and of Johnny, who in the song just defeated the Devil.

Jasper slowed as he turned the next corner. He gazed at the rows of immense houses stacked one right next to the other in blissful suburban naivety. But this home was of a different breed.

_27 Grandview Drive;_ the address dictated to him by White's personal assistant. He slowed to a near stop, ebbing his blue SUV onto the driveway slope like a lazy wave. The gothic wrought iron gate he knew as tradition for wealthy homes such as these greeted him.

A tinny voice rang out before he could announce his arrival. "Jasper Hale, you are cleared to enter." Of course, _they_ were expecting him in a faded and used and fairly unsuspecting sport utility vehicle. _They_ wouldn't be surprised by Charlie Daniels blaring out his speakers, either because _they_ knew everything about him.

_Ah, the basics_, he dully noted. _A file with my name on it and cameras at the only entrance_.

"Thank you," he uttered toward the speaker. He steered the car through the wretchedly slow gate.

The White estate donned all the looks of gothic morbidity. Driving the property felt more like taking a Sunday cemetery tour. Bushy Burton-esque sculptures acted as garish guardians to the dead Whites buried along the grounds. The crumbly whitewashed tombstones of yester years jutted from the grassy earth. They were modest compared to the newer marble stones sparkling almost as decadently as his skin in the sun. Thankfully, today had been overcast with a chance of severe storms moving into the area.

_Not that I need to hide. Mr. Angus White is a much scarier monster_, he reminded himself.

As he drove, he noticed the unsurprising presence of a stark, stone mausoleum. It distracted from the beauty of the family burial ground, and Jasper rolled his eyes at the drama of its ominous presence. He'd been hoping for a little more Edgar Allan Poe and a little less Addams Family.

He continued along, curving around a row of haunted trees. Their branches bent to snag him. Their ghostly wind moaned through the leaves. Her voice whispered with it, _Jasper….Jasper_. It seeped in through the crack in his window, trying to remind him.

_I recognize you_, he answered back. _You just don't affect me. _

The mansion loomed ahead on his right; a great shadowy mourner in the gloom of day. As he rounded the wide horseshoe wedge of drive, the high archway above the massive front door frowned down on him. Panes of cold sadness stared down at him, bare and dirty. It was a depressing sight even for a creature responsible for so many deaths, and he sensed something as dark as himself lurking inside.

If he had actual mortal emotions and fears, the place may have given him the creeps. But this house called to him. Not like the wind just urging him along, but the structure tugged at him. It pulled him closer, mimicking the way he lured young women into his death embrace.

_By playing the misery card. Miserable, surly, and alone_.

"Well, at least we have something in common," he muttered behind a half-cocked grin.

He stepped from the car as the butler emerged from his cloaked watch under the archway. Jasper was disheartened that White had not employed the likes of Lurch, but instead an old withering wisp of a man with a stoic face hardened by years of fierce loyalty and servitude.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hale," he barely spoke through the crack of his mouth. "I trust you found your way to the mansion with ease."

Jasper nodded briskly. "Yes, sir. The map was quite handy."

Out of nowhere, he was flanked by two hired thugs. They silently went to work clutching and patting him over his expensive suit. _Saw this coming_.

"Pardon the inspection, Mr. Hale," the mortician butler droned, "but it's a mandatory precaution."

"I'd expect no less," Jasper said. He popped the thugs a cute wink and cocky smirk.

_If only these dimwits knew that I'm the only weapon I need._

Inside the mass entry, Miss Virginia Thomas, his only contact for the job, met him with a luscious smile. She was as beautiful as he expected; as staged and predictable as one of White's B-rated horror movies he'd painstakingly sat through. She had the exotic jewel eyes and the sleek ebony flow of hair, shiny as raindrops dripping down her back. Her face was a perfect mask of makeup, and she wore the sexy career girl short skirt and long jacket uniform.

But he would not be so knowable.

"Welcome to White Manor, Mr. Hale. I'm Virginia Thomas, Mr. White's personal assistant. I take care of his every professional need among many other privileges." _Ah, yes, a voice from abroad. Somewhere European no less. _

When she stepped forward to offer her hand to shake, Jasper brought the polished hand to his lips, gracing it with Southern charm. His eyes caught the flicker of mild surprise she tried to conceal behind her practiced demeanor.

"Ma pleasure, ma'am," he drawled. Like magic, he could pull his weathered accent out of a hat.

She gave her watch a perfunctory glance. "Right on time. To the minute."

"I pride myself on punctuality," he told her, still holding her scrutinizing gaze with his signature half-cocked brow and lopsided grin.

But he was really no match for her. She had her own charms. With a gratuitous lick of her sparkling lips, she spoke deliberately. "Mr. White will appreciate the courtesy. Won't you please come with me."

Jasper was certain she had put too much emphasis on the direction to come, but he knew it was just another show of her unsurprising suggestive mannerisms.

The main entrance led right into a vast staircase, and Jasper was obliged to follow. Cameras crawled all over him. He could feel their mechanical eyes trailing after him, tracking his every step. He resisted the urge to wave and smile. He appreciated that she was purposely hurrying him, leading him, wordless, down a myriad of twisting corridors as if to disorient him. But again she was underestimating him. These tactics were trite and amateur at best.

She echoed with every step; her stiletto heels, her foreign voice, her heady perfume. He was impervious to her. Under all that perfume and prettiness, she'd taste like rotting meat.

Finally, she put him at the door of her employer's personal study. She gave four quick rasps before opening the door and allowing him entry.

Jasper moved a confident hand over the honey blond waves of hair, smoothing them back into place, then stepped inside. He lingered near the door as Mr. Angus White finished dismissing more of his hired goons. By the looks of them, they were all brawn, but no brains or real skill. Jasper had them figured out rather quickly by the way they carried themselves, the smug little looks they gave him as they passed by, and the air they left behind.

_I look forward to a day of sparring with these so-called experts. But until then…_

He stuck to checking out the scenery while White answered a phone call. He stood still, hands clasped, feet apart, but his eyes roamed the room, soaking in every morose detail. The many rows of books with titles expressing White's extensive interest in the dark arts and the occult lined the wall nearest him, but White had many other morbid trinkets displayed behind glass curios: a fat jar containing a preserved pig fetus, some sort of medieval weaponry and torture device, a Ouija board scrawled with the signature of Aleister Crowley, a framed photo of a younger White and a wicked-eyed bald man that could have easily been White's brother. From where Jasper stood, he could barely make out the name as Anton somebody.

_This guy is a freak, but definitely my kind of freak_. _Embracing the dark and profiting from it._

He eyed White as the man flipped through a thin stack of papers, smooth talking someone on the other end of the line. The man was small, lean, and rivaled him on pale. His black gun metal hair with streaks of silver bullet grey at his temples was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Jasper considered this guy could've easily passed as a member of the "new" hipper Volturi.

White sensed him staring. He peered up at him, his dark eyes piercing, deep and fatal. His small lips formed an apologetic grin around the graying goatee and thin mustache he kept well. Jasper looked from the framed photo in the curio back to the man at the desk.

_Does this guy age? Or are the rumors true?_ It was proof by looking at him that White's life of excess had spared him. He looked smooth, sexy, and as divine as black velvet. Jasper had come upon rumors that White was heavily involved in certain satanic circles; that maybe he'd sold his soul to the Devil for his own vanity. Either way, Jasper was neither intimidated nor impressed with White. It was the paycheck and position that mattered most.

"Ah, Jasper Hale Cullen," the man approached him.

_Cullen. Strike that. Going to have to address that at some point_.

"Good afternoon, Mr. White," he said.

The two men shook hands.

"Yes, stick with Mr. White. I prefer that," the man confirmed. "I'm a man of business. So, let's do just that. Have a seat."

He gestured to one of the gaudy purple chairs at his desk front. Jasper nearly coughed just looking at the seats all wrapped in what appeared to be an endless cord of feather boas, but he put himself on the cushion anyway.

White moved behind his desk. He held a thin file just out of his interviewee's reach. "Jasper, you are a man with an elusive past. I had to dig hard and deep for you. If it wasn't for the relationship I have with your adopted father I'd consider you overqualified for this position."

Jasper tensed at the mention of family. _The people I left so I could go on killing…feeding again_. "I appreciate Carlisle's recommendation for the job, but I can speak for myself about my qualifications."

White's articulately trimmed black brow hitched higher on his forehead. "Carlisle? Not _daddy_?"

"The Cullens are no longer a part of who I am," Jasper announced between clenched teeth. "I have no family to speak of anymore."

"A man with nobody to care about is a man with nothing to lose. The most dangerous kind of man perhaps?" White baited.

The sweet beguiling blonde cocked a knowing grin. "The most dangerous kind of _thing_ is more like it, Mr. White. If you know Carlisle Cullen as well as I have researched then you know exactly what I am and what I live for doing. Then you understand me perfectly well."

White nodded, slowly, in perfect understanding as the boy assumed. "Of course. You are a nobody. The same as me. Night Watch Productions is a cooperation of nobodies."

Jasper took a sweep around the room with his doubting eyes. He nodded to the many framed posters from all of White's cinematic disasters. Ridiculous mind rot that had unbelievably made him a rich, successful movie mogul. "From where I'm sitting it looks like you are somebody to me."

White just smiled, and the vampire sensed the man's true nihilistic nature. "Those are flowers on the casket, my friend." He tapped at a nearby photo of himself posing beside a hideous rail of a man. "_We are the_ _nobodies. Wanna be somebodies_. But tomorrow we are all just dirt. Thank Marilyn Manson for that sharp piece of steel wisdom."

Jasper had no reaction but to utter, "Next time I run into Mr. Manson I'll be sure to tip my hat for your benefit."

That got White chuckling. "These movies I make and people I associate with are the reasons I need _things_ like you. There are concerns and responsibilities I leave to men, but then there are more threatening, issues I leave to more discreet men like you."

"Confidentiality is ma specialty," Jasper drawled. "And like I assured Miss Thomas over the phone, as long as the terms of our agreement are still in good standing, I'm all yours."

White glanced quickly over the terms he must have been reading over shortly before his arrival. "I'm a bit surprised by the salary you negotiated with Miss Thomas."

"How so?" Jasper questioned.

"It seems meager. Considering the lifestyle you are used to as a _former_ Cullen."

_He catches on quick_. "I lived fine without them before. I'm doing fine now. Besides, being a part of your team comes with room and board; almost an entire wing of the house if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes." White paused, rereading the most interesting aspect of the contract Miss Thomas had parlayed. "I'm most intrigued by your, shall I say, dietary needs. One warm meal every three days. _Only_ every three days?"

Jasper confirmed with one deep nod. "That is all I require, sir. But I must be assigned head of your security team. I must be in full control of the entire operation, and I must have your complete trust."

"Trust is a tricky concept. Especially considering what kind of _thing _you are, Mr. Hale." He tapped at the contract. "But I'm willing to move forward with the arrangement as long as you are clear about the final conditions I added."

Jasper knew. "The surveillance of your daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Lilly."

"Why not hire a nanny?" The vampire suggested. It only seemed logical. _I'm not a babysitter. I'm a killer. _

White's sardonic chuckle rubbed Jasper rough. "She's twenty-three years old. I thought perhaps you'd done your homework, Hale."

"I did. On you." He knew White and his wife had an affinity for younger women, but with the recent passing of the Mrs, White's flaming appetite had cooled.

_Has this son of a gun gone on to messin' with his own flesh and blood? _

"You see, my Violet's death was sudden and Lilly took it harder than even I could imagine. She went into complete isolation," White explained. "It wasn't until recently that she has begun to break out of her shell. She's returned to her daytime volunteering jobs. She's eating again. But what goes on at night is most compelling to me."

This piqued the vampire's dark interest. He tried to imagine what could be so mysterious as to concern such a twisted, off creature of the night as White.

Curious, Jasper's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, _what goes on at night_?"

"That's what I'm going to be paying you to find out, Hale," White spat.

"I'm not a PI," Jasper scoffed. "I don't even own a camera, I,"

White waved him off. "All that is not necessary. I don't need photographic evidence to understand what is going on in my daughter's nightlife. I just need to know what she is doing and that she is safe."

"If it's a bodyguard you want for her, I can put a man on her,"

Again, White interrupted. "Yes, that is what I want, but I want a man of your capabilities to watch over her and eliminate trouble as it should arise."

Again, the vampire's thick brow came together, wondering. "You expect trouble?"

"Always."

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to take over all security operation and be security detail for your daughter?"

White simply nodded.

Jasper's face lit, charged by the trials he was sure to face and conquer with this new position. "Well, Miss Thomas did assure me this job would be a formidable challenge. One that I most certainly look forward to."

His enthusiasm made White smile. His teeth bared, Cheshire Cat-like. "Excellent." He scrawled his signature across the page.

Jasper clapped, sealing his end of the deal. "So, when do I meet Lilly?"

The pen abruptly stalled. White sighed, but only his eyes moved to snag the vampire's full attention. "You won't. In fact, she must not know about you. You will not speak to her. She lives in the guest house on the property and rarely comes into the manor so coming into contact with her should not be an obstacle. If she comes into danger, you must take care of it swiftly and discreetly. I want her completely unaware and uninvolved."

"But shouldn't I at least,"

"No. I understand your affliction, Mr. Hale, and I am wary of your kind. I'm not naïve to think my daughter will not tempt you or rouse your recently awakening appetite for blood. There needs to be _some_ distance."

Jasper straightened. He pulled at his suit coat, smoothing his face to all business. "I can assure you of my professionalism, sir."

White pointed at him with the inky tip of the pen. "I am always assured but never convinced."

Jasper weighed this. "Fair enough," he finally said.

An hour later, Jasper found himself fully acquainted with the manor, but most importantly the entombed basement that was entirely devoted to White's security team. It had the feel of Bruce Wayne's Bat Cave with all its hidden compartments and rooms of surveillance and gadgets intended to do significant harm. The men in sharp suits buzzed and moved like worker bees protecting the queen's hive.

_I wonder how well they will respond to my changes. _

In the cameras room, White approached a balding man sitting at a long counter. Multiple screens were sprawled out before him, but the man was busy thumbing through a guns and ammo magazine. _Of course_.

"Has my daughter arrived home yet?" White asked. He didn't seem miffed by the screen watcher's distraction. He had faith in his ability to watch screens and read magazines at same time, Jasper presumed. But that kind of thing would not do on his watch.

"She has entered the gate, sir," the man confirmed. "She's approaching the cemetery right now."

The father tipped his head back, remembering. "Ah, yes. It's Friday." He turned to the vampire lingering in the background. "She has her rituals. On Tuesday and Friday she visits her mother's grave. Why don't you go to her. But remember, keep your distance. I want you to see her, but she must not see you," he reiterated again.

Jasper obeyed. Quickly, he sauntered from the room. He trotted through miles of halls and stairs until he was outside, a gust of late spring air mussing the usually cooperative waves of his hair.

And then he was the wind rushing among the tombstones. A blur of light. A rustling of leaves. Or a misty ghost walking the cemetery.

He kept his distance as White commanded, scathing the tree nearest to the most recently departed family's resting spots where the girl wandered.

Jasper watched, immediately intrigued. _Lilly White_. He almost laughed at the illustration of such a name weeping below him. _Pure Lilly White. The exact opposite of her father; this place. But so perfectly named and designed for this Disney Princess of a girl. _

Her head bowed, the pale spiraling curls falling around a round face of painted porcelain. A living doll with glassy green eyes dripping tears like tiny diamonds. She reached out to touch her mother's headstone, her dainty hands grazing over the etched marble. Jasper winced at how small and frail years of White's seclusion and overprotection had made her. She looked more like a tall child than a grown woman. He sensed every bit of her pain, loss, and innocence that clung to her like wet clothing in the rain. So unusual and unbelievable in this day and age.

She carried on crying, muttering aloud _why, _and arranging the delicate bouquet of flowers she had placed on the patchy plot. It was grueling to watch even for a monster like him. Almost annoying.

_I could comfort her. I have the ability. Not every decent part of me is dead yet._

He reached out to her. Not with a hand or a soothing word. But something else he'd gained upon becoming immortal; the power that allowed him to manipulate and sense the emotions of the living creatures he now called food again. It had been what drew him to the Cullens. Alice. He couldn't feed without feeling the excruciating pain and fear he brought to his victims. Now that's all he wanted to feel.

Suddenly, her eyes were upon him. Her head tilted, rows of curls bouncing off a fragile shoulder. She gazed at him, expressionless, but he could feel her wonder. Jasper stared back, perplexed. The comfort he had anonymously tried to give her had instead warned her of his presence.

_How could that be? _

A clap of thunder disrupted their connection. She turned, walking mechanically through the sudden downpour.

Jasper sat in the tree, still looking at the grave sight where she had just stood. The water pouring from every full leaf, rushing down his face did not affect him. But she had. In that brief instant, she had moved herself inside; a ghostly haunt of a woman now residing in his mind able to sense his influence.

It made him want to kill.


End file.
